


What You Are

by sebsteve



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And so do I, Drabble, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, derek loves stiles' moles, sterek, tiny bit of angst??, tiny bit of pining maybe??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 01:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4244565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebsteve/pseuds/sebsteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles sees Derek for more than just his scowl and his leather jacket, Derek wonders about the skin beneath Stiles' clothes, and the two just want the other to know how much they mean.</p><p>[update: i fixed the stupid spacing!!!]</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Are

**Author's Note:**

> my first sterek fic ever posted and it's basically me just self-indulgently rambling about the important of stiles stilinski and derek hale i am so sorry  
> chat with me on tumblr please and thank you: http://summerogers.tumblr.com
> 
> update: i fixed the stupid spacing!!!

Derek knew people often just saw him as the scowl on his face, the gruff tone of his voice when he suggested that their plan was either simply not smart or would result in much more death than necessary, and of course, for his leather jacket - which, if he were being honest, had seen much better days.  


He also knew, however, that Stiles saw him for more than that.  


Stiles saw him as the scruff on his face, the little sweet ache that it left behind on his cheek after he drew Derek in for a hug. To Stiles, Derek was the serious companion to his playful banter, a welcome anchor to ground him to the floor and on the same level as those around him, instead of off and inside his own head. Derek was the protective barrier between Stiles and the rest of the people he had come to consider a pack and any and all incoming danger. Derek was a force to be reckoned with, something Stiles didn’t want to tame, but rather wanted to let take its course as it was a beautiful sight to his eyes.  


The learning of that knowledge wasn’t what shocked Derek the most, though; instead, it was the tiny little smile that played on the edges of Stiles’ mouth when he said it. Obviously it wasn’t said in such plain terms, but Stiles had a way of saying miles and miles of words without physically uttering them, whether it be through his face or those hand gestures he was always being the poster child for.  


Derek wondered himself if Stiles knew what Derek thought of him, if he knew that Derek saw him as a comfort Derek often didn’t allow himself to indulge in. He wondered if Stiles knew how much Derek enjoyed the moles dotting the skin of Stiles’ face and his neck, if he knew how much time Derek had spent betting with himself on whether they decorated the entirety of his body and if Derek would ever be allowed to find out for himself if they did.  


Stiles’ spazzy behavior had always been endearing to the older man, the only sign that it was always coming in the form of tiny, secretive little smiles on Derek’s lips. Smiles that no one seemed to really notice, which, really, made enough sense when it was pointed out that no one paid too much attention to him once they deemed him to not be a threat.  


Not Stiles, though, who always seemed to have a certain interest in Derek that he often wondered - hoped? - if it was more than just mild, casual curiosity.  


Derek never acted on his questions though, never uttering a single one, until the day Stiles heaved the biggest sigh Derek had ever heard, followed by the onslaught of 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone throwing itself into his arms.  


Stiles’ lips were warm, moving against Derek’s as if he were a drowning man finding his last breath of air, such enthusiasm in the way he kissed that Derek couldn’t help but let loose one of his special smiles against Stiles’ mouth.  


Contrary to popular belief, Derek smiled plenty, it just took the right thing to cause the action.  


Stiles in his arms, chest to chest and practically molding himself against him, was definitely one of those things.  


Derek’s hand rested at the base of Stiles’s back, a sudden warm pressure that had Stiles pushing forward as if he could get closer to Derek despite their already incredible proximity, an action that only widened the smile on Derek’s face.  


Stiles pulled back, a fraction of an inch, simply to whisper against Derek’s lips, “Please tell me this is affecting you like it’s affecting me. Tell me you feel it too, Derek, God, tell me this is real.”  


His babbling was adorable to Derek, even more so when Stiles pulled a hand back to presumably count his fingers, as if he really didn’t know if it was a dream or not and desperately needed to know if it was really happening.  


Sliding a hand beneath Stiles’ shirt, needing Stiles to know that he felt it too, Derek resealed their lips, putting more passion between them, muttering a, “yes” between their locked lips, their combining breaths doing something sinful to him.  


Before he could register what was happening, Stiles had tore his shirt up and over his head, tossing it onto the floor beside them - and yeah, Derek was right about the careful decoration of moles he figured Stiles to have. They littered his skin like a wonderful mess of splattered paint in the form of beauty marks on an already too-beautiful human being.  


Vowing to kiss each and every one of them, Derek guided Stiles’ hands beneath his own shirt, wanting the other boy to know that he was his comfort and that he trusted him, a gift of a boy Derek didn’t know if he deserved to have for himself.  


He’d give anything to Stiles, though, for he was the first, maybe even the only one, who saw past the stereotype that had become Derek’s life, having gone on to associate Derek with completely different things than everyone else.  


Derek was okay with that, as long as he got to show Stiles what he meant to him, too.


End file.
